So Cliche
by purrpleperson
Summary: Ron can't stop thinking about a certain someone, and he's afraid if anyone found out about his secret they'd think it cliche. Basically the opposite of the story my sister wrote, So Wrong. If you haven't read it yet, you should.


This is an inspiration from my sister's, _So Wrong_. Hehe. I tried to make it somewhat funny too. Just read. Sorry if it sounds quite an awful lot like hers, I really did try my best to make it sound somewhat original at least. However, there will be some things that still sound similar.

Oh yes, and everything here is not owned by me at all. Except for the sick twisty-ness of my evil psyche. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. Pretty much. I own none of these characters; I am simply borrowing them whilst Joe glares at me. :whimper:

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__Cliché. So very, very cliché. _

The word spread through Ron's mind like wildfire, igniting his nerves and making him twitchy. He sighed and ran a shaky hand through his flaming red hair, making it look no smoother than it had been before.

_Get a grip on yourself, Ron. This is not happening. You do not like… No. It is impossible. You like Draco, or Harry, or… somebody. But not… Ron sighed again as he battled with himself in his mind. He lifted his head to stare across the tables to the Slytherins. His eyes fixed on Draco, and he tried desperately to imagine them in a dark corridor snogging fiercely. His peachy flesh against Draco's silky white, their pelvis' grinding against each other. _He grimaced at the pain of bone against bone. Ron shook his head to clear his thoughts of a slashy Draco and himself._ He was Ron Weasley. He never thought about these kinds of things. But he had to, otherwise a certain someone would be stuck on his mind, which he did **not** want._

Ron slumped over his plate, his fork poking at his eggs, the yolks stubbornly not popping. _What about Harry? He is cute, I guess. _He thought to himself. His eyes rose to look across the table at Harry, his mouth moving non-stop as he went on in an argument with Hermione that rubber duckies do not serve a purpose whatsoever. Ron dropped his fork on his plate lightly and propped his arm up on the table, resting his chin in his hand. Again, Ron tried to imagine himself beingslashy and shoving Harry against a wall, his hand reaching down Harry's trousers to grab his er ... wand. Their bodies pressing hard into each other, tongues exploring the delicious crevices that just begged to be touched.

Harry stopped talking when Hermione mentioned that Ron was staring at him, a dreamy, far-off gaze in his eyes. Harry turned his head to look at Ron and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"R-Ron? Are you … are you okay, mate?" Harry asked, still confused. Ron shook his head and opened his eyes wide in fear that they may have caught him fantasizing.

"Yeah … sure. Of course I am. Just daydreaming about … you know… a girl." He lied. His eyes shifted away from Harry's gaze, his face beginning to turn red.

Harry laughed and said, "Yeah okay. Just don't be getting happy over there." Harry laughed again when he saw Ron blush yet another shade of crimson. Ron swallowed hard and stood up from the table. Some one grabbed his arm reassuringly and he felt a rather familiar bulge in his trousers get hard. He stuttered and pulled out of their grasp, walking quickly out of the Great Hall without a word.

Ron just kept walking until he realised he had no idea where he was. He turned to his left and his right, but did not recognize the hallway at all. He sighed and ran his freckled fingers through his hair again. Where could he go to get rid of this ... this thing in his trousers? Not the Gryffindor Common Room, that was for sure.

He looked to his side and saw a dark corridor. He did not need to go too far down it, but it would provide some privacy whilst he got rid of his er ... problem. He heard quick footsteps behind him and hurried into the dark, not looking back to see who it was that had followed him out of the Great Hall. He turned a corner and made it into the dark of the corridor, his back up against a wall until he heard the steps stop. He sighed and crawled blindly into the darkness a little more to ensure his privacy, then proceeded to unbutton his trousers. He felt them drop to his ankles and he sat on the floor, his knees spread as far as they could comfortably.

He looked down at the thing that always made him stay away from … No. He would not say the name. If anyone found out, they would laugh. It was just so bloody _cliché._ He hated it.

He gripped the head of his enlarged red penis, squeezing at the very tip; just how he liked it. He shivered from the touch and allowed images to flood into his mind. He did not want them, but if they made _it_ go away, he would gladly invite them to be there.

He thought of delicate hands, reaching up to brush back hair. The hair. Probably the most known part. His hand pumped faster, his bottom tensing up from the pleasure. An involuntary moan escaped Ron's throat, making him bite down on his lower lip to keep any more from exiting his mouth. His back arched and his hips bucked forward momentarily as he felt his body warming up, the heat radiating from his penis.

He said a name aloud and yelped, hoping no one was close enough to hear.

Then it was all over. He tightened his eyes to dismiss the images, and then opened them slowly. He tucked it back into his pants and buttoned them up, wiping his hand on the wall then on the inside of his robes.

He stood and lifted his gaze to find warm, chocolate-brown eyes staring back at him without any expression.

"Her-Hermione! W-what…uh … d-did you…" He stumbled over the words trying to find the correct thing to say.

A delicate hand reached up to brush some hair out of her face. She smiled softly to Ron's surprise.

"Need some help there, Ron? You looked like you may have been struggling with some wild beast." She replied to his stuttering, her eyes wandering down to the bulge in his trousers.

"Yeah … er… well." He tried to speak again, but still could not bring himself to the words. She merely chuckled at this.

"Then again, for all I know, you could have been, ahembeating your Bludgervery well." She shook her head and smiled some more.

"Hum…yeah. That's it. I'm quite erm…talented." He spoke with a cracked voice, his face going red in the cheeks.

"I'm sure you are, Ron. Well, since I see that you are so very _talented_, I guess you won't need my help, now will you?" She asked, making Ron raise an eyebrow and gape at her in surprise.

She stepped up closer to him and let her hand glide from his chest down past his belly button, following the red happy trail that was hidden behind his shirt, stopping right at the waist of his trousers. She snapped the elastic band lightly and patted him on the chest. He swallowed hard and forced a smile.

He wanted this; he knew that. She knew it as well… He put a shaky arm around her waist and slowly pulled her closer, not used to being so confident and domineering. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, backing him up into the wall.

This was not right. He was the boy, the dominant one. He bit down on his lower lip and rolled over the wall, pinning her up against it instead. She yelped with surprise and he smiled with satisfaction. For once, he was living out his fantasies. Only with Hermione instead of Draco or Harry who he wanted to dream about. He never wanted to fantasize about Hermione. It was bad, evil, wrong. He smiled as a wave of newfound confidence washed over him. He pressed their mouths together quickly, but hard. When he pulled back, both of their lips were bright cherry red and already somewhat swollen. Hermione licked her lips and smirked.

"Ready to tame my beast?" Asked Ron.

_This is so very cliché._


End file.
